Winter

by Beth Alexander Walsh

      

 Winter and I are having a hard time. It isn't something specific that He's done, but the decades of small transgressions have added up, raising my resentment while the temperature drops, or the forecast of snow is more than two inches. I'm especially annoyed with meteorologists who get excited at the mere hint of an impending storm, although my beef really isn't with them, it's with Winter.

    
He is a lothario in December, seducing me with that first blanket of snow, shadowing the trees and sparkling in the moonlight. Winter takes me on a cozy honeymoon, as I sit in front of a roaring fire wearing a jaunty new scarf. I take pictures of that first snow, pure and white, casting the world into snow globe perfection, and granting white Christmas wishes. By mid January however, Winter is leaving the toilet seat up and dirty socks on the floor. The honeymoon is now over, and He gives me a litany of chores. I am shoveling, salting and scraping as He nips at my nose, trying my patience. At the market, solidarity is found in the weary eyes of fellow shoppers, as we stock up on milk and bread. Hostility is imminent in February as I climb over dingy snowbanks with my traitorous snow loving dog, shivering as she sprays the landscape yellow. My surliness escalates, along with cabin fever, at Facebook friends who post pictures of cocktail laden hands on sunny beaches. By then, I have had it with Winter!

   
There once was a time when Winter and I were the best of friends. In grade school, I remember praying to Him for assistance in canceling school. I would listen to the radio, willing the announcer to call out “MEDFORD”, officially giving ownership of the day to snow, and out into the snow I went!. There were wars to wage, with arsenals of snowballs tucked behind shored up bunkers. We would skate, sled and build snowmen until our fingers were frozen through two pairs of wet mittens, or late afternoon darkness made activities too treacherous. In later years, there were energetic days of skiing, finished off with beer and board games. Even after marriage, I still enjoyed Winter through the eyes of my children, showing off my snow angel prowess and skating on our own backyard pond. Now, my wish is to escape Winter's clutches and join all the snowbirds as they head south.

 
My animosity starts to thaw around March, when I sit down with my pile of seed catalogs. Curling up under a blanket, I flip through the pages and dream of sun kissed tomatoes and rows of vibrant zinnias. When the crocusus make their way through the receding snow, I rejoice, knowing I have survived Winter's captivity and will soon find freedom with my new best friend...Spring!